The Garies and Their Friends eBook

What a merry happy party it was—­how they
all seemed to enjoy themselves—­and how
they all laughed, when the bride essayed to cut the
cake, and could not get the knife through the icing—­and
how the young girls put pieces away privately, that
they might place them under their pillows to dream
upon! What a happy time they had!

Father Banks enjoyed himself amazingly; he eat quantities
of stewed terrapin, and declared it the best he ever
tasted. He talked gravely to the old people—­cheerfully
and amusingly to the young; and was, in fact, having
a most delightful time—­when a servant whispered
to him that there was a person in the entry who wished
to see him immediately.

“Oh dear!” he exclaimed to Mr. Balch,
“I was just congratulating myself that I should
have one uninterrupted evening, and you see the result—­called
off at this late hour.”

Father Banks followed the servant from the room, and
inquired of the messenger what was wanted.

“You must come to the hospital immediately,
sir; the man with the typhus-fever—­you
saw him yesterday—­he’s dying; he says
he must see you—­that he has something important
to confess. I’m to go for a magistrate
as well.”

“Ah!” said Father Banks, “you need
go no further, Alderman Balch is here—­he
is quite competent to receive his depositions.”

“I’m heartily glad of it,” replied
the man, “it will save me another hunt.
I had a hard time finding you. I’ve been
to your house and two or three other places, and was
at last sent here. I’ll go back and report
that you are coming and will bring a magistrate with
you.”

“Very good,” rejoined Father Banks, “do
so. I will be there immediately.”
Hastening back to the supper room, he discovered Mr.
Balch in the act of helping himself to a brandy peach,
and apprised him of the demand for his services.

“Now, Banks,” said he, good-humouredly,
“that is outrageous. Why did you not let
him go for some one else? It is too bad to drag
me away just when the fun is about to commence.”
There was no alternative, however, and Mr. Balch prepared
to follow the minister to the bedside of McCloskey.

When they arrived at the hospital, they found him
fast sinking—­the livid colour of his face,
the sunken glassy eyes, the white lips, and the blue
tint that surrounded the eyes and mouth told at once
the fearful story. Death had come. He was
in full possession of his faculties, and told them
all. How Stevens had saved him from the gallows—­and
how he agreed to murder Mr. Garie—­of his
failure when the time of action arrived, and how,
in consequence, Stevens had committed the deed, and
how he had paid him time after time to keep his secret.

“In my trunk there,” said he, in a dying
whisper,—­“in my trunk is the will.
I found it that night amongst his papers. I kept
it to get money out of his children with when old
Stevens was gone. Here,” continued he,
handing his key from beneath the pillow, “open
my trunk and get it.”